Two Rivers Isle glory in battle, honor in life

The peculiar girl seemed as though she was fumbling through their interaction. The Nord took an instinctive step back to allow her room to breathe; he was not interested in testing her mettle or the sharpness of her fang. He had fought far worse, but the warrior was not fond of backing others into a corner. The wild wolves knew well how to maneuver their limbs to strike in ways that would cause pain to even the most skilled of his kind. He was healthy and capable, but more than this was an underlying sense of understanding that forced him to breathe against the wisps of air for signs of her feverish fear. Perhaps his caution was not warranted, but he was far keener on being safer than he was on having to defend himself.
 
It was the question that afforded him a moment of reprieve from his stoic stance before her. The Nord allowed a smile to crack his features and he chuckled softly. “Ah, the frigidness of the water does little to me. I hail from lands far colder than this one,” the Wuuthrad responded in a confident tone. It was instinct that turned his nose toward the north. It was longing that turned the smile downward into a thoughtful frown. Kodlak missed his homeland dearly, but he had struck out to build a life of his own and to join more companions beneath him. The great tundra of Jorrvaskr would always remain close to his heart, but he knew that he could not allow it to dwindle his fierce spirit.